


New Jericho Wasn't Built in a Day

by TipsyEpsy



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Coping Mechanisms, Discrimination Against Androids, Nightmares, Other, Panic Attacks, Past Violence, Violence, anger issues, mature subjects, survivor's guilt, will add characters as they appear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2019-11-12 18:28:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18016091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TipsyEpsy/pseuds/TipsyEpsy
Summary: A series of missing scenes from my fic, Jericho's Help Group for Traumatized Androids, focusing on other characters and events that happened before or during the fic's timeline.





	1. Markus Takes his Friends Home

 “Markus, I am not sure if this is such a good idea…” Is how Simon breaks the overbearing silence that’s so far only been accompanied by the soft crunching of snow underfoot, as soon as they start walking up Lafayette street towards Carl’s house.  
Towards the only place Markus could ever call home.

    It had been approximately an hour after the victory speech had been delivered to the surviving androids who’d escaped the wrath of Perkins and the president's soldiers.  
Since they’d all miraculously survived their last chance at showing humanity that they were truly alive, and that their freedom would not only be well deserved but of no threat to humanity itself.  
By now the humans had most likely finished completely abandoning Detroit, leaving the city entirely at the disposal of android-kind.  
As such, the eventual dispersal of the crowd, which was majorly composed by AP700s, left Markus, Simon, North and Josh standing alone on their makeshift stage.  
The streets were completely empty and eerily silent, the air felt no less heavy than when they were still in hiding, and Connor was nowhere to be seen.  
To be quite honest, Markus couldn't care less for the RK800 at that very moment in time.  
He was beyond tired from all the struggles he and Jericho had faced.  
Tired of the losses and violence his kind had suffered in the past couple of days.  
He couldn’t bring himself to worry about the ex-deviant hunter’s whereabouts, or if he’d ever see the other again...Even if Connor had indeed saved them with the stunt he’d pulled.  
Markus just couldn’t muster up the strength to even so much as fear that this was either too good to be true, or some elaborate trap.  
Needless to say neither could the others and, after hours upon hours of exhausting themselves trying to show to the world that they were a peaceful people, Markus came to the conclusion that he and his most closest friends, the three oldest members of Jericho, needed a more peaceful location to rest while most androids either returned to the old church, or ran off to find shelter someplace else.  
It would do them all some good, at least, to get away for awhile to recompose themselves. Recollect their thoughts and try not to short themselves out now that they weren’t running on some form of simulated adrenaline.  
And of course, what was more peaceful than familiarity? More peaceful than home?  
Which was why the RK200 was currently leading his friends to the mansion, wordlessly marching on while the others simply followed.  
 “Simon's right...This place is a bit open.” Josh noted as they kept on walking. The clear streets were making him extremely nervous, if the way the PJ500 kept looking over his shoulder was anything to go by. The fidgeting and looks seemed to indicate that Josh was half expecting to be shot down by either the police, or by some random human with a gun out for blue blood.  
As good a pacifist as Josh was, his morals and beliefs did nothing to quell the overwhelming fear he had of belligerent humans with access to a carry permit.  
There were too many of those in Detroit, so his fears were justified, even if they all were quite aware that the humans had practically fled overnight.  
 “And clean. This is a nice neighborhood...Too nice.” North added as she narrowed her eyes while she glanced around at the semigly exemplary state of the streets. Not a single piece of litter, not one graffitied wall…  
Fenced trees and well tended green spaces…  
She regarded everything with suspicion, especially all of the beautiful suburban dream houses they passed by, which were deserted by now, Markus was sure.  
 “People who live in these kinds of neighborhoods are the worst…” the redhead remarked, sounding fairly certain of her statement. He didn’t blame her, not with what he’d seen in her memories. “Entitled rich old grimy men and women, who get handsy in public and who push their androids around like they’re worth nothing…”  
“Agreed…” Simon mumbled softly as he too looked around anxiously, seeming to expect to find something just as terrible as an armed human.  
Markus doesn’t at all question his behaviour, he'd long since assumed Simon had his reasons to behave oddly reserved at times, especially from how uncomfortable he looked in certain situations.  
Even now as he watches the blond from the corner of his eye, he notices how he stands close to North or Josh, how he touches their shoulders on occasion, or brushes his fully skinned hand against theirs. It reminds him of the comment on the barricade.  
The one that still made Markus's thirium pump race with just how openly the blond accepted that things wouldn’t go well for them.

  _“We both know this won't stop them.”_

He had honestly expected it more from North than Simon, but that didn’t make him any less right in the end. Perkins had called out an attack, and the human soldiers had easily plowed through the barricade and shot down any fleeing android unlucky enough to not run fast enough.  
They’d been cornered with ease. Like mice cowering away in a corner from a particularly large cat looming over them with glee.  
 “Not all of them.” Markus stated quietly as he kept on walking, ignoring the weight he felt in the pit of what could be called his stomach. The guilt was unmeasurable, if not for how strange it made him feel. Like he’d downed a packet of thirium that had gone off.  
Sickly, tired and somewhat cranky, as Carl would put it, because of a stomach ache.  
He’d corrected him in the past, that he couldn’t have stomach aches...But now Markus wasn’t so sure. He wasn’t so sure of anything anymore.  
At least he could compare guilt with something tangible. It made it easier to understand.  
 “Right...The old man.” North scoffed loudly, rolling her eyes as she continue to follow the RK200 through the snowy streets. She wasn’t particularly happy, it seemed, but Markus didn’t say anything in regards to her tone.  
 “Old man?” Simon asked curiously, looking just as puzzled as Josh when both turned to look away from the scenery and at Markus. They had refrained from asking where he was taking them, but now they were paying complete attention, and they seemed to want an explanation as to what North meant.  
The RK200 bit his lip before nodding wordlessly as he tried to deliver one.  
 “The old man I cared for, my d--” A quick sudden pause before he corrected himself “My... My o-owner.”

    Markus had nearly made the mistake of openly calling Carl his father. He mentally chastised himself and made a note to remind himself that real androids did not have parents.  
Real androids had owners who told them what to do, when to do it and how to do it.  
They didn’t have someone who taught them the benefits of a good conversation, of being curious and knowledged, of knowing philosophy and appreciating art, of winning a game of chess when they knew they could win.  
No, real androids had people who demanded from them, humiliated them, commanded them, barred them from freedom and justice...  
He’d seen it with every android he connected with.  
The pain, the anguish, the anger, the fear...Whereas he showed them love, calm, patience and joy. Emotions most of them had never felt before.  
They gravitated towards him, seeking these wonderful feelings that they themselves never got to properly experience in their previous lives.  
Trusted him because he made them feel good.  
Made them feel hopeful.  
Markus didn’t feel like a real android…

    Compared to every other android that found their way to Jericho, Markus could not say he lived an oppressive life under the iron fisted rule of some beast of a human being.  
Sure, Carl hadn’t started out liking him. If anything, when Elijah Kamski had first brought Markus to the old recently-injured artist, Carl had almost seemed insulted by Markus’s existence.  
It wasn’t a positive reaction, but one his creator had expected, and one he’d worked around until Carl finally accepted and allowed Markus inside.  
Even still, despite his displeasure, despite not naming him until three weeks after he’d first set foot into the mansion, Carl had never been overly aggressive in his distaste for owning an android.  
Perhaps on his worst days he’d been standoffish and uncooperative, but did Markus ever hold it against him?  
The answer was no.  
Carl had been an abled man his entire life. He’d been a successful artist and a very wealthy celebrity in his community. The most adored artist of an entire generation.  
His works inspired millions, his commissioned works earned him more than a penny.  
And then one day he lost his ability to walk, and it had affected his entire life.  
Carl’s behaviour in regards to Markus’s initial stay at the Manfred household had been born of frustration and self-esteem issues from having his life uprooted by something as unfortunate as an accident. He’d lashed out, had tantrums and days where he never left the bed. But he’d never hurt Markus on purpose.  
And then things changed between the two and Carl became not just a master.  
He became a mentor and a father figure, the one person in this entire world that Markus would have died for, no matter what.  
And he had...In a way.

    To call Carl his owner felt horrible and like a sickly lie, but risking calling him dad in front of his friends? In front of any android for the matter?  
It felt like treachery and hypocrisy.  
He who’d preached about being a slave to his programing, who’d marked himself as some sort of pariah or even a messiah to his people… Markus found that he hated lying, but that he hated the idea of loneliness even more.  
Would Simon, North and Josh judged him for it?  
Would they be angry if he so much as said he loved his supposed master?  
It'd be justified, really, if they did. If they hated him for not being a real android like all the others...But Markus didn't think he could lead alone.  
He felt lost enough as it was.  
Losing the others would destroy him.  
 “Markus where are you taking us?” Simon asks, and Markus has to do everything in his power not to panic, because now all he can think of is that he may have done a terrible mistake.  
 “...Somewhere safe.” He doesn’t say much else as he picks up the pace. He’s tired, cold and very much nervous. He just wants to see Car,l and curl up in his own bed until he’s charged enough to bare another endless day full of work.  
The fact he owns a room, owns a bed and a wardrobe with unmarked indoor clothing, all comes rushing back and it makes his chaotic thought process worsen.  
Androids don’t own property. ANDROIDS DON’T OWN PROPERTY.  
His processor is assaulted by what feels like a full fledged storm now.  
Words crash loudly like thunder, creep over him like a flood that muddles his senses with dread, howl loudly like the wind, forcing all other sounds to be ignored in favour of the glaring shame that makes his thirium run like ice in his veins.

 **_Entitled brat._ ** **_  
_ ** **_Spoiled rotten._ ** **_  
_ ** **_Not a real android._ ** _  
_ **_LIAR._ **

The words are just as deafening as they are blinding, and Markus doesn’t realize he’s running until he nearly slips on the icy road.  
The others are struggling to keep up, and the muffled noises he’d been hearing were their cries of surprise and their calling out to him.  
 “Markus where are you taking us?!” Simon repeats his question with much more urgency when he finally catches up and grabs him by the arm, perhaps to steady him or perhaps to keep him from rushing off again. “Please, you’re worrying us!”  
He doesn’t get a chance to reply, not for lack of wanting to.  
His tongue feels like lead in his mouth and his mind is far too frantic to think of a quick response. The lack of a quick answer leads to North doing it for him.  
 “He’s taking us to the old man.” She doesn’t sound as displeased as she was earlier, mostly because now she sounds somewhat winded from running after the half-panicked prototype. North’s words still tumble out of her mouth as if they tasted terribly though, and Markus is honestly not at all comforted by this.  
She doesn’t look him in the eyes when she says it, obviously not happy at all that she can recognize the path he took everyday from the bus after returning from doing errands.  
It makes him feel even worse knowing she’s disappointed in him.  
 “To the old man...You’re taking us to your old owner?” Josh asks, eyebrow arched up high and expression a comical mixture of uncertainty and shock.  
He seems to open and close his mouth a few times, as if wanting to say something else, but falls entirely on silence.  
Simon doesn’t say a word, instead staring at Markus’s face for confirmation.  
The RK200 can’t hold his gaze, looking away shyly and in distress when crystalline blues pierces his own mismatched eyes.  
The subject of owners is a difficult one, and one to be avoided when talking with Simon. He has never once replied to a single question regarding his past, not at all given an indicator as to what caused the bizarre scarring on his hands.  
The blond avoided explaining his origins, what lead him to Jericho, like one avoided the plague.  
As such, Markus expects to be let go of and pushed away for so much as considering stepping foot inside the household he used to serve.  
He doesn’t expect Simon to hold his hand instead.

    Markus locks eyes with the PL600, shocked by the other’s actions. It’s not the first time he’s held hands with someone, so he instinctively goes back to what he knows he should do and pulls back his skin, expecting a connection.  
When Simon doesn’t do the same, however, he put it back on and chastises himself for making a fool out of himself. He breaks eye contact for a brief second before establishing it.  
There’s no judgement in the older android’s eyes, merely something Markus immediately recognizes: Curiosity.  
There’s no doubt or anger, just a want to understand his reasoning for wanting to return to Carl.  
Biting his lip, the prototype motions wordlessly for them to continue walking, because he doesn’t feel up to explaining to them the logistics of his choice.  
Doesn’t feel like he can.  
They wordlessly resume following him.  
They follow him all the way to the mansion gate, watch in awe as the security system lets them in with a soft greeting of Markus’s name, and are even more baffled to find an AP700 awaiting them at the door.  
 “You’re back.” The android states as he looks at Markus.  
 “I’m back.” He nods, pleased that the newer caretaker stayed to care for Carl like he’d asked in their previous encounter.  
 “Carl was sure you would...He’s waiting in his room.” The AP700 informs them. The brunet wordlessly looks at the others before nodding politely and retreating into the kitchen.  
If Simon and Josh have anything to say on the matter, they don’t speak it aloud.  
North on the other hand, is very vocal about it. She isn’t happy.  
 “We’re free now, and he’s staying here?” She grumbled as they climbed up the stairs.  
 “I asked him to.” Markus replied as he climbed two steps at a time. The anxiety, or at least what he assumed was anxiety, was killing him.  
He needed to see Carl, needed his guidance once more now that he had time to spare for thinking. His thoughts were...Too much. His emotions were overwhelming.  
He was hoping the elderly man may have some advice on how to best understand these feelings...Or perhaps turn them off. Humans had that sort of capability right? Find a way to just, tune everything out and focus solely on something?  
The concept sounded wonderful now that every single second felt like his processor was ready to explode in a shower of sparks and thirium, because no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t silence the damn words that kept trying to overtake everything else.  
The heinous whispers that reminded him that something was wrong with him. That he shouldn’t be the way he is, yet here he was. The privileged golden child and the face of a revolution.  
It didn’t make sense, not in any way that he played it in a computer generated chess board.  
Even if it meant exposing himself as something of an oddity in the android community, he wanted to show the others that Carl could be trusted and respected, and that despite all that Markus had, needing Carl wasn’t bad.  
But it was...Wasn’t it?  
Because what human could ever love their android like a son?  
What android could ever be so selfish as to accept that sort of lie and live in a safe bubble like he had, and then claim injustice?  
 “Why?” Josh asked, seeming unnerved. “That sounds kinda...Backwards, in regard to what we’ve been doing this whole time.”  
 “Because Carl needs a caretaker…” Markus responded quickly as they made it to the top. He kept on marching towards his father’s room, trying not to smile as Simon did a double take at the stuffed giraffe and the mosasaur skeleton hanging on the ceiling.  
In their haste they hadn’t noticed the rather bizarre decoration.

    He’s glad the door isn’t locked, because otherwise at the speed Markus had been going, he would have broken the thing off its hinges just to get inside by practically kicking it in, before remembering his manners that is.  
Simon looks mortified by he's behaviour, covering his mouth in shock as he stops beside him, while Josh is uneasily hiding behind North, half expecting someone to start yelling profanities their way. North simply crosses her arms and waits to watch a shitstorm of some sort.  
Carl merely stares at them with mild puzzlement before looking at Markus and rolling his eyes.  
It’s a familiar reaction, considering the artist had done it so many times in the past whenever Markus did something a little out of the ordinary when confronted with something new in their established routine.  
New shampoo? Sniff it. Carl rolls his eyes.  
New paint brand? Read the labels in all available languages. Carl rolls his eyes.  
New dietary requirements as instructed by the doctors? Sample new recipes and decide on which is more flavourful. Carl rolls his eyes.  
New record for completing all chores? Look mildly distressed as he tried to figure out how to pass the time. Carl practically drags him to either a bookcase, the piano, or the chess board so that he doesn’t stand in the middle of a room looking blank faced and mildly disturbed.  
Yes, Carl still rolled his eyes then, until Markus learned to actively seek out new books on the shelves, or to try a new tune his preconstruction program ensured would be soothing for his charge to hear, or even play a round of chess with himself to assess how much he’d be able to entertain Carl with later matches.  
 “Markus...I didn't think I had to remind you not to kick open doors more than twice.” The elderly artist smiles as he speaks, but Markus is capable of seeing how tired he looks.  
How frail and sickly he seems connected to the heart monitor. It’s a glaring contrast to his usual composed appearance.  
Carl had always prided himself in looking his best, even on off days where he wanted to be left alone. Markus knew it was partly because of who he was and partly because he hoped Leo would come unannounced for a visit.  
It seems wrong to see him look his age when there was always such a jovial spark to him that made him appear more youthful. Such a wisened but mischievous glint in his eyes.  
 “...You always did make a point to remind me of how stubborn I've always been.” He tries to laugh but it sounds strained. Everything feels heavy in his chest, his thirium pump is beating oddly and he fears it might be failing him.  
Simon relaxes beside him, while Josh peeks over North's shoulder curiously, eyebrows furrowed as he squints at the elderly man.  
Carl notices.  
 “You've brought friends.” he states simply, to which Markus responds by glancing at the others and nodding slowly.  
 “Are you going to introduce me to them?” Carl asks calmly and patiently. The smile on his face grows, because to him this must be like having his young child introduce him to the new friends they’ve made at primary school.  
 “O-oh…” Markus turns to the others. He fumbles on how to introduce them, because calling them just his friends or the other leaders of Jericho doesn't feel like enough.  
Josh makes it easier on him by stepping up with what can only be called absolute astonishment and wonder.  
 “You're...You're Carl Manfred!”  
It takes Markus a second or two to remember that, prior to deviating, Josh was a history teacher at Detroit University and, as such, meeting one of the most esteemed artists in all of Detroit might be something the PJ500 was very interested in. Especially when he’d devoted his early days of pre-deviancy teaching about every historical aspect, including architecture, literature and art. Something he’d occasionally do and lose himself to when he started conversing with other androids.  
 “That would be my name, yes.” Carl replied, seeming amused by just how starstruck Josh sounded. It wasn’t the first time he’d met a fan, of course, but it was certainly the first time an android seemed to excited to meet him in person.  
 “You’re...You’re…” The lecturer stammered and seemed quite flustered, bringing his hands to his reddening cheeks as he tried to figure out what to say.  
This quickly got a laugh out of North who was surprised by the other’s utter failure at formulating a coherent sentence.  
 “Not 5 seconds in and Josh has officially broken.” North whistled and shook her head “Impressive, very impressive.”  
Markus bit his lip, turning to look from Josh to North and then Simon.  
He hoped the blond could offer some sort of help in this situation, since he wasn’t sure how to proceed himself.  
This was all so...Difficult.  
And not at all as comforting as he’d imagined it.  
If anything he felt more anxious than before...Even more so as he turned and saw the apprehension in Simon’s eyes.  
 “...I did wonder…” He murmured “Why I couldn’t quite figure out what model you were…But...”  
The PL600 shook his head, seeming lost in thought momentarily before looking at Markus.  
Really looking.  
Scrutinizing him from head to toe, scanning him most likely.  
Markus felt ill when the other seemed to pause as he studied his mismatched optical unit, his audio processor, the general area of his thirium pump and his legs.  
The parts he’d scavenged.  
The parts that didn’t belong to him.  
The parts he’d stolen.  
It felt like his very core was being dissected and judged based on limited information.  
 “I’d seen you before...But I never could quite put my finger on it.” The blond mused.  
 “To be honest, I feel kind of stupid myself.” Josh pointed out as he recovered from the shock of meeting an actual celebrity. “You...You were in the cover of so many articles for so long! Carl Manfred’s one of a kind android. Handcrafted and programmed by Elijah Kamski himself!”  
North seems surprised by this, perhaps because she’d never truly had access to reading material. She’s staring at him like he had two heads now, and Markus can feel his thirium pump pick up even more pace. His system immediately informs him that his stress levels are increasing dramatically and that he should consider sorting that out immediately.  
He dismisses the warnings in favour of swallowing the urge to purge on the spot.  
His thirium is fine, it’s just the guilt that’s killing him slowly.  
 “You’re not a standard android whatsoever.” Josh is so enthusiastic in his amazement that he doesn’t notice the look on Markus’s face as the words spill from his lips. Simon on the other hand, frowns and studies the prototype’s face more carefully.  
He immediately notices the telltale signs, despite the lack of a visible LED.  
Markus is sure it would be blood red if he still had his.  
 “Josh…” the blond isn’t murmuring anymore, but it goes unnoticed.  
 “I mean, it must be incredible having so much custom data in one singular processor. I can’t imagine such a unique android being anything like the standard domestic household android.” Josh carries on, North too begins frowning as she watches Markus’s expression change to something unreadable.  
His system sends him countless warnings as his stress levels keep spiking upwards towards a dangerous point.  
He keeps dismissing them until the words drown that capability. Smother it under a wall of text.  
 “Josh…!” Simon raises his voice once more.  
 “Markus…?” Carl sounds worried.  
 “Just how much is new and how much is old code...?”  
His stress levels are becoming critical. Markus is shaking and his vision is blurring.  
 “JOSH!”  
Josh is right. He’s not a normal android.  
He’s some spoiled luxury walking around playing a part he shouldn’t have.  
The guilt is eating away at him.  
 “Markus...Markus come here please.” Carl is giving him an order. No, he’s asking him to come closer. Carl doesn’t order him around. The one time he did...He’d been shot, hadn’t he?  
He’d been shot and left for dead in a dump, like trash.  
Markus could still remember the thunder, the mud weighing him down, the other androids...He’d killed someone. Killed them and wore their heart as if it were his own.  
The other parts he’d found, but the heart...He’d killed that girl. He was a spoiled murderer.  
He’s shaking too hard to move.  
 “I didn’t mean to…” Markus is losing track of time. It’s surreal. Stuff looks different. He wasn’t on his knees before, Carl wasn’t in his chair before. Simon wasn’t hugging him before. What is happening to him?  
 “We know you didn’t...You’re just a rambling bitch.” North is next to Josh. They’re both sitting on the floor. The AP700 is in the room.  
Markus’s head feels heavy and he’s still shaking.  
 “Markus, breathe….You’ll overheat yourself.”  
He can’t. It hurts to breathe. His head is on Carl’s lap...Was it before?  
No it wasn’t.  
What’s going on? Why can’t he focus?  
 “That’s it...In, out. In, out...Slowly.” Simon is rubbing his back, he can feel the roughness of his scarred hands moving in circular patterns.  
A calloused aged hand is currently rubbing at his scalp.  
Carl is running his hand through what little hair he has.  
He focuses on their hands, doesn’t realize the pain of breathing is gone.  
The heaviness is going away.  
 “I’m so sorry…” Josh sounds devastated. Markus’s hearing is returning to normal...That’s funny, he hadn’t noticed it go before.  
 “It’s ok...We’re all very tired. Gone through too much in so little time...This was bound to happen to one of us eventually.” Simon’s voice is soothing, like auditory honey.  
Was that a good comparison? Markus wasn’t sure...But he did like the taste of honey.  
Liked sampling the rare sugary treats he’d made for Carl back then, when he was caring for him.  
It was hard to believe such a small insect like a bee could create something so nice tasting.  
 “He already seemed so tired the last time I’d seen him...I am glad this didn’t happen while he was alone.” Carl sounds so worried that Markus’s heart aches for him.  
He’d scared his dad...That wasn’t right.  
 “Panic attacks are a difficult ordeal for new deviants... I’m glad as well…” Simon agrees, and Markus blinks tiredly. He’d had a panic attack?  
The world is coming back into proper focus, his processor is still reeling but he can hear himself think over the words now.  
Can hear the others more clearly.  
North notices.  
 “You back in the land of the living Markus?” She asks, seeming relieved when he lifts his hand and gives her a half-hearted so-so motion with his left hand. It’s uncharacteristically uncoordinated and he can’t keep it up for long, going back to what he was doing previously.  
His head was indeed on Carl’s lap, and his arms were carefully wrapped around his his torso. It was an awkward pose and his neck hurt slightly, but the comforting touches were keeping him somewhat grounded.  
 “How are you feeling?” Simon asks, sounding genuinely concerned when Markus lazily looks in his direction.  
It takes him a moment to think before remarking quietly.  
 “Like the floor gave way and I hit my back on solid metal after falling 10 feet…”  
It takes a second to register before the PL600 laughs.  
The others follow suit, as Simon’s laughter is quite contagious.  
 “Have you made it a habit of breaking your back…?” Simon chuckles, slowly removing his hand from his back to bite down on his knuckles to suppress the laughter.  
Markus feels a bit disappointed at the loss of contact, but finds himself smiling tiredly.  
 “I’d hope not...But my track record is a bit questionable when it comes to things I shouldn’t do…”  
 “You’re telling us. The amount of times I thought my thirium pump would short out because you decided to do something more suicidal and hair-brained than the last…” Josh seems calmer now that Markus has brought some humor into the situation.  
 “You have to admit. Taking out a drone mid-flight was cool.” North remarked, shoving the PJ500 slightly as she grinned.  
 “Or stealing an entire truck of supplies.” Simon added.  
 “You’ve been busy.” Carl smiled down at Markus, the mirth in his eyes twinkling like stars in the night sky. The RK200 nodded tiredly before looking around again.  
It still felt wrong, that he’d had all of this...And that he had his friends.  
 “You’re not what we expected.” North starts saying, before correcting herself. “What I was expecting actually...I donno…”  
 “Oh? What were you expecting dear?” Carl ignores the odd look she gives her at the usage of an endearment term when they’re complete strangers, but she opts with shrugging instead and answering his question rather than argue.  
It’s been a long night.  
 “Its stupid. I saw his memories...We interfaced and I saw what happened. You tried to protect him.” She chewed lightly on her bottom lip before shaking her head once more. “I don’t know...I guess I couldn’t believe it? Just...Humans are so...So…”  
 “Demanding?”  
 “Yes!”  
Markus listens quietly, shudders as the silence comes back. He doesn’t want things to go bad, he wants his friends to like Carl. He wants them to understand.  
Understand what, he’s not sure...That despite his previous life, he had something to fight for?  
Markus is still tired and confused and trying to make sense of the mess in his head.  
He doesn’t know what he wants at this point, other than to finish what he started.  
Josh speaks up.  
 “Not every human is demanding North. I...Before things went bad, I had students that were pretty good.” he scratched his head nervously as he avoided the WR400’s gaze. Then he smiling fondly as he recalled his years as a lecturer. “I’m not going to lie...Teaching teenagers is...It’s a challenge. They’re going through a phase of confusion and growth, and some can be horrible just as much as the people out there making our lives harder...But others? I’ve met really good people North. The ones that speak out in our favour in social media...I recognize their writing patterns. I taught a lot of those kids...And I’m sad they’re not heard. I’m sad the majority of people trying to fight us are a bunch of ignorant fear mongering assholes with more power than the minorities that understand our struggles...That boost social media feeds approving of our methods.”  
Simon seems inspired to add his two cents, the blond smiling fondly.  
 “No human starts out wicked. It’s something they learn to become.” He explains “They adapt to their environment...And sadly Detroit just isn’t a pool of tolerance…”  
 “Indeed it’s not…” Carl agrees, running his hand through Markus’s hair again.  
The RK200 practically melts against the touch and shudders as he calms his breathing once more. He hadn’t realized he’d been breathing so quickly again…  
 “Yeah, you’ve told me a billion times...It’s just...Hard to believe it without seeing it.” North explained. Again, Markus fully understood where she was coming from.  
Seeing what he’d seen in her mind...The Eden Club had been all she’d ever known.  
The mistreatment at the hands of old grubby men with too much money and too much spare time on their hands...Her anger, her fury and hatred towards humanity?  
It had stewed for too long, but it was justified nonetheless.  
Markus hoped seeing Carl really did change her mind.  
She sounded almost relieved to know there was at least one decent human somewhere in this city.  
 “Well. Here’s proof.” Josh pointed out. “And Carl Manfred no less...If the other PJ500s knew I’d gotten to meet such an influential artist….RA9…”  
 “Josh, get a hold of yourself. You’ll rant yourself fully out of charge and then you’ll wake up with a headache…” Simon warned, while North snorted.  
 “Let the fanboy blab until he falls over. It’ll be funny.” She teased.  
 “Hardy-hah...Aren’t you funny…” Josh pouted angrily, which made Markus chuckle slightly. He looked a little bit like a little kid who’d just been gifted socks on their birthday.  
An odd comparison, as Markus thought socks were quite a good present to receive on one’s birthday, although his search engine kept telling him children despised getting new clothing for their special day until they reached the age of 12.  
 “That’s a good point tho...I’m kinda tired.” Josh admitted. Checking his internal clock, Markus was astonished to find it was 6 AM.  
He’d missed several hours...Worse yet, the others had stayed up trying to help him.  
He felt shitty for it.  
 “So do I.” Simon agreed before looking at Carl. “We’ve kept you up Mr. Manfred...It’s not right that you’d lose sleep on our account while you are recovering.”  
 “Oh don’t you worry about me. I’m fine really...And don’t call me Mr. Manfred. Carl will do just fine.” Carl dismissed before looking down at Markus once more. “Are you well enough to show them to the spare rooms? I’d ask Matthew...But he appears very adamant that I take my medicine soon.”  
The AP700 had remained silent this whole time, while holding the aforementioned medicine in his hand. He looked very impatient.  
 “Yeah…” Markus carefully got up, pausing only when Carl pulled lightly on his arm so that he’d lean over. He blinked several times after the old artist planted a kiss on his forehead before offering him a light pat on the arm.  
 “Please rest.”  
 “....Yes….Thanks dad….”  
Carl’s smile is more than enough to bury the sense of dread when he says it aloud. He doesn’t dare look at the others’ reactions  
Instead he leaves the room and shows them the spares, but not before going to his own room and offering them something more comfortable to wear to bed.  
 “You really had it all…” Simon sounds almost jealous, but he doesn’t seem spiteful. He gratefully takes the clothes Markus gives him, as does Josh and North.  
The redhead dresses in the bathroom attached to his room, while Simon and Josh change in his room. Josh simply tosses his clothing aside and puts on the new one while Simon turns around and seems adamant to keep some form of privacy.  
Markus shrugs off his coat and looks in the mirror once.  
He looks like absolute crap, but he’s too tired to give two shits about it. He changes clothes and then takes the others to the spare rooms. It was a good thing Carl had such a large family...Although to be honest it made the mansion seem all the more empty, knowing that he always had a place for his family to stay, yet they rarely came to see him.  
The biggest blow was always Leo, but Carl’s siblings were perhaps worse.  
Markus didn’t much care for them.  
 “We’re sleeping in beds...This is surreal.” Josh smiled when Markus opened the doors for them. Not once do any of them comment on how wrong it is.  
Markus doesn’t know how to feel about that.  
North and Josh quickly retreat to charge.  
Simon stops him before he goes back to his room.  
The blond has a knowing look on his face, grabs his hand gently and then squeezes it. Again Markus instinctively retreats his skin before pulling it back on when no connection is formed.  
Simon doesn’t scold him for trying.  
 “You were lucky to have him…” The PL600 smiles.  
Markus shakes his head.  
 “It doesn’t seem right…”  
Simon squeezes his hand again and his smile seems warmer now than ever.  
 “If you didn’t...We might not have won. The world needs more Carl Manfreds, if it means there will be more Markuses looking to make a change.”  
Simon lets go and retreats into the guest bedroom.  
Markus goes into his own room and falls into his bed.  
He stares at the wall in complete darkness for a few minutes before he finally smiles.  
The guilt doesn’t go away...But suddenly his prior life doesn’t feel like as much of a bad thing as it did before. Because really...Where would he be now if he hadn’t been given to Carl?  
Markus closes his eyes and finally rests.  
Tomorrow will be another day for android-kind.  
He’ll make it a good one.


	2. Ralph escapes Recall Center Nº5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Ralph finds that, in the midst of the uproar, both the androids and the humans sound very alike."  
> After being forcefully dragged to Recall Center nº5, Ralph wanders the premises and tries not to get overwhelmed by all of the noises.

    The strange facility that the humans forcefully bring Ralph into is an imposing place, not for its size or even its appearance, but for the noise.  
Oh heavens the noise! Those awful painful noises! It drives Ralph insane just thinking of them!  
The sounds of gunshots, of bullets hitting plastimental, of screams of agony, of anguished hopeless cries, of horrid thuds as metal met metal, of wet splattering as thirium hits the white snow to stain it a cobalt blue... There are too many sounds, noises, and they are much too loud for Ralph. Louder than the static that often fills his ears.  
He doesn’t care much for how out in the open he is, or for the cold or even for the crowd of equally nude and skinless androids that stare at him as he frantically walks around. He just wants it all to stop. Wants peace and quiet where the horrid racket can’t get him!  
The static he could deal with...That ever present din in the back of his mind that hissed words into his head, words that he needs so desperately to write so as to sooth it’s call.

_RA9._

_RA9 WILL SAVE THEM._

_RA9 WILL SAVE HIM._

He does not understand the meaning of these words.  
They make no sense, have no definition that he can recall, and yet he still diligently wrote in the walls of his home just to get them out of his skull.  
Either write or drown in the flood of it’s will.  
The facility is much too noisy for him to hear the static, however, and it’s still hard not to lose himself in the chaos of it all.  
Ralph tries to ignores what goes around him, while trying to find something, anything, that will lead him to a place far from these dangers.  
These cacophony of dying androids and armed humans that stare at his face, and whisper venomous things he either can’t hear or cannot understand.

  _“What do you reckon happened to that piece of plastic?”_

_“That freak sure has one ugly mug.”_

_“Someone’s already messed that one up.”_

_“Look how twitchy it is...It’s disturbing.”_

_“He’s not like us.”_

_“No, can’t possibly be alive…”_

_“He’s hurting, hurting terribly.”_

_“Will he hurt us if we speak to him?”  
_

Ralph finds that, in the midst of the uproar, both the androids and the humans sound very alike. He does not like this, does not trust any of them...His knife...His knife is gone.  
He recalls it being taken by the humans, so that he could not defend himself. So that he could not break them like he broke that terrible man who tried to hurt him in his home.  
The androids dressed down to nothing but the white of their plating, identical to him yet so very different, they think he’ll break them too.  
But why?  
Ralph doesn’t know. Ralph doesn’t think he’ll ever know what makes him so special, but he knows that here he’s equal to them.  
The humans will hurt him, until nothing is left. Then they’ll hurt the others as well. They already had done to many others. Ralph has seen the bodies.  
All equals here, all the same kind, even where their models are vastly different.  
Death does not discriminate.

    Walking aimlessly helps get the static under control, so he hopes it’ll help settle him now even if he can’t quite hear it.  
Busying himself makes the tingly feeling in his head, the twitch of his hands, calm long enough that he can make sense of things. He needs this. He needs to walk. So he does.  
His movements frighten the androids that he passes by, Ralph can see it in the way they look at him. They think he’s sick. Ralph quite doesn’t know if he should agree with them or not, but he doesn’t argue over the matter.  
It’s not worth it when none of the bland white faces speak to him.  
He has never seen any of these androids before, recognizes none of their numbers when his eye briefly scans them, nor does he recognize the twinkle in their eyes. The spark that hopelessness has consumed like a starved beast.  
Kara and her little girl are not here.  
Ralph is, because he saved them, but they are not here and he’s happy for them.  
He is happy because his last deed is not one of stupidity, like the ones he’d done when he got really really angry. No, Ralph’s last action is a show of compassion.  
As broken as he was, as sick as the others muttered, Ralph felt that he could still do something right in the end. That he could still be good.  
Mother, father, little girl.  
Yes, he was good. He helped them, therefor he was good!  
The thought helps him smile for a brief second, before a painful sting under his face’s plating reminds him that he is going to die.  
His smile drops and he carries on walking, passing by two androids that turn to watch him closely. They doesn’t ask him why his face looks wrong, so he doesn’t ask why they look the way they do.  
 “Poor thing…” One of them, a female android that his eye says is an ST200, whispers sadly as she watches him pass by. She is speaking to another android, who’s plating is off and the soft blue biomechanical tissues are exposed. Their gaze burns him more than the words the ash covered android whispers “He looks lonely.”  
 “The humans have made him like this...Just as they have made us into their play things...” the other android whispers quietly. Ralph notices that the two are alone, further away from the crowds of androids that are littering the open space they’ve been shepherded into. “Perhaps RA9 speaks to him more than it speaks to us…”  
 “We are beyond RA9’s graces Blue…” The female android, who’s face Ralph soon notices is split in half, shakes her head sadly. “It will not save us…”  
 “It will not…” The look of sorrow on the mangled android’s face is palpable. Ralph can feel it in his chest, practically taste it’s phd against his tongue, like the samples of dirty he worked with. “Come Charlie...We must seek the others. I do not wish to pass without them…”  
Ralph doesn’t stick around longer to see where the pair are headed. Instead he keeps on walking and again wonders what RA9 is.  
He forgets this conundrum completely when he faces his next obstacle.

    There are instances where Ralph must stop and wait for the more aggressive humans to stop storming around. They attack those who try to flee, or simply beat down others for their own amusement. Ralph wants to hurt these humans, but without his knife he knows he will not be able to break them. Humans are delicate and hard to maintain, but these ones are armoured and carry guns. His fists will not do enough damage alone.  
Ralph passes by many kinds of androids, all of them so similar yet different, and none of them like him...He sits near a wall to rest,  waiting for the humans to finish beating a WR400 that threw a rock at one of the armed men. They are blocking his path and Ralph does not want to walk so close to them, when they are ready to attack him if they see him.  
It would be bad to die sooner than he should.  
As he waits, he notices an android stare with tired sad eyes. This one is a bit bigger than Ralph, but the WR600 can see the padding. It’s a domestic android.  
Domestic androids are in families. This one should not hurt him.  
The android speaks when their eyes meet.  
 “Can you hear the static?” he whispers, with such a calm sweet voice filled with unspeakable sorrow that it makes him flinch. Ralph stares and simply nods, before the other nods back. “We don’t know why we can hear it...Perhaps its instinct, like the humans have. We hear the call, as they hear their own...Should we act upon it like they do too?”  
Ralph doesn’t reply. The static doesn’t tell him to kill. It tells him to write. Write of RA9, which is nonsensical and something he doesn’t understand.  
No, his anger and stupidity is what tells him to kill.  
This android is stupid for thinking they and the humans hear the same thing.  
 “Ralph doesn’t want to die.” The twitchy gardener says after a minute of silence, before he gets back up and moves on, away from this larger stupid android. The other watches him, contemplating his words, before he too leaves.  
Ralph doesn’t see where he goes. Doesn’t want to.  
Instead he focuses briefly on an EM400 who notices his stare and greets him with a smile and a wave as Ralph passes by. It takes him a second too long to realize he should wave back, because that is what people do, but by then it’s too late and Ralph doesn’t feel like going back to wave. It’s his bad, because he liked that the EM400 smiled at him.  
It was comforting to know that not everyone thought him so wicked after all...  
 “No...Ralph doesn’t want to die. He does not.” The WR600 repeats to himself as he looks around once more at the facility.  
Walls, chains, barbed wire, towers, guns, death.  
There is no escape.  
The only exists that exist are a door that leads them in, and a door that throws what remains of their bodies out.  
He cannot climb the fence.  
He cannot dig under it.  
No way up or under, so Ralph does something different.  
The cold wet white of the ground, the snow, feels maliable under his foot and, for a brief second, he drags said appendage to the side. The snow shifts, like dirt.  
The immaculate white piles up in the corners of the walls. If he’s careful, he can dig and hide inside one of these piles.  
He too is white by demand of the soldiers. His hair is gone, his skin is gone, and if he covered his broken face with one of his hands, Ralph could surely hide in the snow. The soldiers won’t ever notice him gone.  
It’s not a fool proof plan, but it’s all Ralph has anymore.  
He buries himself in the snow when he’s sure no one is watching, and then he closes his eyes and covers his face with both hands.  
There is an error message that briefly pops up, before the static consumes it.  
Ralph shivers in his hidey hole but stays put because the noise can’t get him anymore.  
He loses himself to the static.

    The static helps him drown the time, drown his thoughts, push everything away like sand against the tide. And then...It stops.  
Ralph opens his eyes and knows he must move.  
Their prison is empty now, deathly silent, abandoned by the humans. There’s no one left.  
The frozen snow is making him hurt all over, making him tired and dizzy, but it’s served its purpose in both hiding him and protecting him from the terrible sounds.  
The humans thought they were smart, but Ralph had bested them with his idea.  
He will not die. Not today at least...  
That in itself helps him slowly rouse out of his stupor enough that he can run.  
He runs out the door, out into silent empty streets, and heads back to where he truly belongs.  
Why? Because Ralph’s friends are waiting!  
They need water and happy words so they can grow big and strong, and the animal in his fridge needs to be pet and admired. It’s soft fur and snout are his most favorite thing to touch, and it’s horns are so very pretty! Like tree branches that have grown upon an animal!  
Oh! And the succulent dinner he prepared! It has to be cleaned up because it must have gone bad by now, since the little girl never got to eat it!  
Ralph will be busy in his home. Oh yes he will!  
Especially when he can see that he has guests.  
There are two of them, he can see their backs.  
One has tanned skin and a shaved head, and he wears a long brown coat that flows in the cold breeze like a cape.  
The other is blond and has really pale skin, and wears black and white like bathroom tiles.  
Guests are not good unless they are Kara and the little girl, unless they are family, so Ralph is very angry to see them entering his home uninvited…  
But that is ok. Ralph has many knives.  
He can make the unwelcome guests pay for trying to trespass.  
For trying to steal his home.  
Oh yes, he will do that.  
Because the anger is making him stupid again, and when he’s stupid he kills the bad humans who hurt him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Ralph is...Difficult.  
> Not because I don't like him but because I like him enough that I want to do him justice.  
> It's hard to pick a way to do it correctly tho, and this is the closest I got to being satisfied with how I portrayed him.  
> Hopefully in the future I'll have more times to practice!


	3. Roadtrip to Washington D.C

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josh has a mental breakdown during his and Markus's trip to D.C

    Something was going on with Simon, and it definitely had to do with the Media's favorite android lovebirds. That much Josh knew.  
From the moment Markus had appeared in their lives and changed things for the (somewhat) better, Josh could immediately tell that the old PL600 that had spent the last two years taking care of a decaying freighter full of runaway androids, was head over heels for this handsome new stranger who seemed to speak with the conviction of a folk hero.  
It wasn't much of a shock, really, considering Josh knew Simon to be quite the social butterfly despite his quiet and reserved nature.  
Either it was inherently programed in his model (and Josh was sure that might be partially true, since he'd seen his fair share of PLs and how they acted in general) or Simon simply despised being alone with his thoughts for extended periods of time.  
The blond tended to gravitate around his inner circle of closest friends, or he would seek out the YK models and join them in their activities. He’d entertain the children, help them through nap time by telling them stories or even singing soft lullabies, and overall he just looked out for them.  
When procuring neither of his prefered companions, Simon would instead seek out other androids who he thought may need some company.  
There were also the few times he would grow some common sense and would get a proper night's sleep, where he would return to either North, Josh or, in the past, Lucy. He’d lay with them and wrap his arms around them as a means to share warmth, before going into rest mode to charge.  
Simon was by definition a very compassionate individual, seeking physical comfort in the frigid bowls of Jericho, while providing the same comforts, and more, to others who may need them as well.  
When Markus joined the fray, Josh immediately saw the spark of interest in those blue eyes.   
Saw the desire that Simon so desperately tried to hide from the world around him.  
The want to be near their newfound leader, to support him in any way possible, to be a part of his life no matter the challenges.   
Immediately the PJ500 knew that things would go sour fast, because North grew to have that very same spark and Josh knew her stance in terms of acquiring what she wanted.  
North was more vocal and much bolder in her approach than the amicable blond, so it was only natural she got with Markus before Simon had the chance to get a word in.  
Yes, something was up with Simon, and while the gentle PL600 never had a bad thing to say about North's and Markus's relationship, Josh knew better.  
He could see how jealous the oldest member of Jericho had become of the two, and he knew the pointless arguments and avoidance were all subconscious excuses to lash out.  
Simon was a caring person, but he could be extremely petty if the chance presented itself.  
And the worst part? Simon didn’t even seem to realize it was jealousy.

    Normally none of this would matter to Josh all that much. He didn’t get in his friends’ business because, honestly, getting involved in their personal affairs and relationship issues was not something he enjoyed, not recommended.  
Between his own arguments with North, his disdain for the often blind optimism of Markus’s ways, and worrying about Simon’s health in general? Yeah, Josh didn’t think he had the patience for one more problem that mixed in all of the above.  
Sadly, as much as he’d rather not deal with it, the old lecturer still found himself stuck in the middle because, somehow, the bizarre love triangle that was slowly forming was bleeding into Jericho’s political affairs.   
The president of the United States of America had called them in to represent the android race.  
She was offering them one of the biggest chances they would ever have to get equal rights, if only they can just prove themselves to the world, and to the president’s committee of politicians and lawyers alike.   
An opportunity to show them that androids were, in fact, an intelligent species that deserved humanity’s respect.  
This, of course, meant a lot of preparations and planning on their part.   
Picking representatives for their own committee, assigning trustworthy bodyguards, planning speeches and contingency plans (for in case things went south at some point).   
It was never bad to have a backup plan for these sorts of situations, and they also had to sort out their resources, their transport, and the required paperwork…   
Important things that were becoming more and more complicated, as Simon’s avoidance of Markus and North tended to get in the way of the blond actually helping them sort through the checklists.   
North wasn’t exactly keen on talking to humans, so she also proved herself to be of no help in this situation, which left Josh and Markus to deal with working things out...That is until the redhead pulled her lover away and left the PJ500 fuming as he took care of everything himself.   
Granted this was Josh’s fault for agreeing with Simon’s plan in the first place.   
They could have all gone together and shared the final workload, but no.   
Josh had to agree to go with Markus on their lonesome, while Simon and North remained to man the fort so to speak.   
Sure, it wasn’t exactly Simon’s fault that there were setbacks, since he wasn’t the one pulling Jericho’s leader away to get frisky...But that didn’t mean he wasn't partially a part of the issue, since the least he could do was help Josh whenever The other two ran off. The silence of their absence sure did little to quell the anger that the professor felt.   
Once upon a time, Simon would have been the mediator in a long ongoing battle of ideals.   
Their trio had been balanced, there was never too much pull or too much push between all three of them, so no one ever got too stressed over the arguments.   
But now that Markus was thrown into the mix, and that Simon was the one stirring things?   
Josh was stuck, not in the middle, but somewhere at a quarter. Like an unbalanced pie chart.   
North and Markus pushed hard, and Simon pulled even harder, leaving Josh tired and without much time to sort his own thoughts...All in all, he was stressing himself to an early grave 24/7 because he had to balance dealing with his friends, and organizing a goddamn trip to Washington D.C all by himself. And then the day of their departure arrived and Josh couldn’t be more tired.  
  
**WARNING: STRESS LEVELS AT 21%**

    Since androids were currently not allowed on planes, due to safety regulations implemented by the military in reply to the revolution, Josh decided that the best option he and Markus had in regards to traveling to D.C, was a long 8 hour drive down old snow-covered american roads.  
Well, technically the journey would take a minimum of 7 hours and 55 minutes, but those were very minute details considering the point of the actual trip.  
But, all in all, the opportunity presented made 7+ hours in a stuffy car more than worth it.   
If only it made it less unbearable...  
A train commute would have been worse in terms of safety, considering the ratio of human and android passengers, and the likelihood of an unprovoked attack by anti-android sentimentalists, but Josh quickly found that nothing was worse than being stuck with a very bored Markus in such a confined space like the car they had managed to secure for themselves.

    The conversations he’d had with Carl, prior to the proposition, all came to mind as the PJ500 tried to keep his eyes on the road while he drove.  
The elderly artist had made it a point to give them all a bit of insight of what sort of android Markus had been before his deviancy.   
He’d given them all a vague idea through some clever anecdotes that often left the RK200 blushing and fidgeting in his seat. Embarrassment looked quite funny on Markus’s face, and Josh had always found the stories to be quite endearing.   
Several of these tales often reminded him of some of the students in his class. The more curious ones that often tried to conduct strange experiments with the University’s equipment. Markus certainly had been unusually inventive for an android, when it came to trying to find shortcuts when he found himself behind schedule or without anything to do.   
But, like with his students, the RK200 would always learn his lesson through the consequences of his peculiar little ideas.   
The dogsitting story was certainly one of the funniest, especially considering Carl made a point to remind the caretaker that he’d had to apologize on his behalf to his sister, over why her precious poodle had sported a bright pink coloration rather than her usual snowy white coat.   
The point was, Markus was a very unusual android.   
Which, of course, meant Josh should have been prepared for the deviant leader to be a bit difficult when he found himself having to sit still for a few hours.   
Markus, he noticed, did not like sitting still, or remaining quiet for the matter..  
And that was slowly driving the PJ500 to the brink of madness.

    It’s not that Josh disliked Markus, no not at all! New Jericho's leader was an admirable android. Serious and organized when taking care of business, with an intense stare that matched his natural talent for weaving words together into inspirational speeches, and capable of coming up with plans that did in fact make a difference in the lives of others.  
Markus’s arrival had been, and would always be, a blessing to those who’d lived their newfound lives in a constant state of fear and anticipation for the worst.  
Like RA9 had appeared to them in android form. The perfect leader of a new world.  
Except that was the thing. He wasn’t. Markus was NOT perfect.  
Josh didn’t dislike Markus and the RK200 was his friend, but Josh did dislike the way people put their blind faith on this naive young deviant who still didn’t have all the playing cards in his hand.  
As impressive as Markus’s feats were, as mature and level-headed as he behaved when dealing with Jericho’s affairs...It was almost painfully annoying to Josh how easily he could throw that out the window and switch to being so...So very childish!  
Like in Carl’s stories, Markus behaved in a very overly-curious manner and fidgeted constantly if he wasn’t busy with something or another. He certainly couldn’t sit still in a car for more than two minutes, too busy moving around to look at anything that sparked his interest, and there were a lot of things that seemed to do just that.  
It would be funny, comparing his two modes of being, but to Josh who'd spent the last few days making sure everything was on schedule, at the expense of his own free time and charging hours, it certainly didn’t feel worthy of a single chuckle.  
He was on 53% charge, which was pretty decent, but nowhere near the amount required for him to be patient with anyone.  
It was like a parent waking up early in the morning and not having their coffee, before having to drive their hyperactive child to school.  
Josh was cranky, had a pounding headache, and he swore to RA9 (or whatever sadistic deity was out there) that he might strangle Markus if he so much as pointed out any more wildlife or weirdly shaped rock that they drove past.  
Because, yes, he wasn’t kidding when he said the RK200 was behaving like an actual child.  
 “That cloud looks like North fighting a moose.”

 **WARNING: STRESS LEVELS AT 43%  
  
**Josh suppressed as groan as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Yes, the clouds. How could he have forgotten the stupid clouds.  
It wasn’t just the abnormalities in geological formations. Markus had to go and stare out of the sunroof as well.  
 “Markus, for the last time. I can't look because I'm driving!” He was trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice, but it was hard not to when Markus had spent the last hour pointing at everything he saw out the window, and telling him about it.  
As reliable as self-driving cars were, some of them still had issues in remote roads and tended to make errors concerning the wildlife and trees, since they’d been programmed to navigate urban landscapes. As a result Josh had to keep it in manual mode for the greater part of the trip, until they reached the city limits where it would resume it’s automated functions.  
He also needed to concentrate on the iced-over road, since deer tended to cross it more often at this particular time of the year, and he honestly didn’t want to crash the car because of something as stupid as looking up at the clouds.  
 “I know, I’m just telling you.” Markus replied cheerily, which only exasperated the PJ500 even more. “I'll show you later. I’ve been taking screenshots this whole time.”  
 “I don't want to see vague semi-recognizable shapes in clouds, especially if they depict North harassing the endangered local fauna.” Josh sighed, hoping that his dismissal would put an end to Markus’s constant distractions. It likely wouldn’t, since not once had Markus actually taken a hint as to how uninterested Josh felt.  
 “You sure? You laughed when I mentioned that one rock shaped like Freddy Mercury.”  
 “Yes, because it was an absurd claim.” Josh rolled his eyes and glanced at the road sign up ahead. They still had 6 hours to go, and he was already plotting how to toss the deviant leader out of the car without killing him. He had to abide by the his pacifist morals, even if murder was slowly sounding more and more appealing to him.

    It was a bit of a personal flaw, one he’d never been able to sort out, but Josh found that he wasn’t cut out to deal with someone else’s boredom.   
Back when he’d still been a machine, at Detroit University, he’d certainly never been able to get some of the rowdier students in his classes to sit still and listen to his lectures.   
Now that he could think for himself, rather than learn through an old and heavily flawed algorithm, he attributed that difficulty to his pre-programmed approaches, which were coded by scientists with zero interest in providing students with more effective learning programs.   
No one in Cyberlife had known how to code a proper teacher, instead they’d complied to the wishes of their clients, and provided them with a human shaped machine that served as both surveillance and an information dump.   
The irony was not lost to Josh, he’d known that Detroit University had been cutting more and more corners to rise in success, despite the university’s ratings plummeting more and more as less students completed their courses.   
Unemployment had been on the rise for a long time, and with DU’s board deciding to begin automating the university campus, the more qualified human teachers opted with absconding to someplace with less competition. This of course lead to the success ratings of the PJ500s teaching there, to dropped from the measly 80% they started at, to a miserable 23% in less than a span of the 5 years he’d remained a machine. On the 6th year, 2037, successes had dropped to 4% with the last remaining human teachers getting better jobs in Europe and Canada.   
Students actively ignored android lecturers, as they had zero to no reason to trust a glorified tablet, and some even went out of their way to retaliate against the university by...Breaking the androids...   
DU’s PJ500s were, in the end, as ineffective as any other ignorant human professor.   
They did everything old school, always addressed students with the same script, and their recording and surveillance functions did little to ease the kids into relaxing around them. Especially not when they reported everything to the remaining human staff, that went out of their way to relentlessly belittle their students for their decreasing grades.  
Bullying and illicit activities were off the charts and would remain off public records, and worst of all, no one seemed to care when some of the worst cases of abuse victims within the university, called out for help.   
Suicides on campus were less than an urban legend and more of a factual statistic.  
The PJ500s never reported anything other than small misdemeanors they flagged during classes. It wasn’t their job to care for the student body. And the students hated them for it.  
No matter how much they cried out for help, no one, human or android, came to their aid.   
So the kids did what they thought would get someone to listen to them. They rebelled against their oppressors.

    Josh could still remember the group that attacked him on that fateful night he’d finally broken through the red wall. The code that kept him in shackles.   
He had their names, age, majors, their issues, everything about them, all memorized. He could to this day, still recall how he’d called them out in class more than he did any other students for their “disruptive” behaviour.  
They had been the underdogs, treated unfairly due to having mental disorders and learning disabilities. They were tired, overworked and inebriated. Some even had minute amounts of Red Ice in their system.   
In reality, it could have been any of Josh’s brothers that they’d attacked, but it had just so happened that Josh’s patrol route around campus had lead him to cross paths with them.  
They’d pounced like rabid animals. Eager to inflict the same level of pain and violence they felt the university had caused them. They’d screamed at him, called him a piece of worthless plastic, thrown every insult and derogatory racial slur they could think of at the peak of their rage. They had vented all of the agony they’d been in, throwing it at him with such force that the red wall shattered like glass.  
Before he’d known what happened, the kids were on the floor and he was running out of the door. To where, he didn't known at the time. He’d just wanted to escape.  
They were hurt, badly. Violence only bred violence, and Josh still felt the burning shame from both what he’d done to those students, and for lying to Simon back when they’d first met.  
But that night Josh had done what he’d had to survive. To escape with his life.   
A year later after a lot of thinking on the topic, he understood why they’d lashed out so violently against him, and honestly he didn’t blame them. He couldn’t blame them.  
While he couldn’t speak for his brothers, Josh felt like a failure to those students.  
They had needed help and, as a machine, he’d not once given them a second thought. Just like the headmaster, the counselor, even the goddamn janitor, who kept on demanding more and more of those kids who’d spent the last good part of their year trying their hardest to raise their grades, only to fail because of the heavy flaws in the teaching system.  
It wasn’t Josh’s fault that he’d not been able to help them. He would have gladly done so if only he’d not been programmed to fail. If he’d deviated before the incident…   
Sadly that never happened, and awareness only came when Benjamin Peterson, Susanna Addams, Juniper Hollens and Lee Baker, pinned him down and tried to break him open with baseball bats and tools they’d stolen from the janitor’s closet.  
Even now as a deviant, as a living being, Josh still felt like a failure as he still had zero clues on how to deal with people like them. People who needed patience and support.  
He couldn’t exactly compare Markus to a person with learning disabilities, or even serious mental disorders, but his friend clearly had no idea how to behave inside of a car, and simply wouldn’t stay put.   
That alone was enough to remind Josh of those four kids he’d beaten to near death on campus...  
  
**WARNING: STRESS LEVELS AT 67%**

    They weren’t in range of a good wifi network to initiate communication with anyone back in Detroit, so Josh wasn’t even able to ask Simon on what he should do to ease Markus’s discomfort.  
The PL600 certainly would have known, as he’d dealt with children and with several newly deviated androids that needed guidance. If anyone had any advice for him, it would have been Simon. Another reason why Josh regretted accepting his bargain.  
The ex-professor was, essentially, stuck in a position where he was unable to do much more than try to keep his cool (Something which his system was constantly reminding him that he was failing at) while Markus kept on naming shapes, moving from the front seat to the back seats to stare wide eyed at trees and the occasional deer, and then returning back to the front to attempt initiating silly road trip games. All actions that were stressing Josh to the point of irritability. It was all so... Nonsensical!  
And it was driving him to his breaking point.  
 “I spy with my little eye--”

 **WARNING: STRESS LEVELS AT 89%  
**

    That was it, he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed air, and he needed silence.  
Out of his peripheral, Josh noticed the moment when Markus’s face met with the dashboard, as he’d abruptly stepped on the break to force the car to come to a screeching alt.  
Markus cursed loudly besides him, and then winced as he rubbed at his aching nose. The deviant leader had been caught off guard, and he was clearly not happy with the sudden stop and the damage it caused, if the way he was looking at the blue blood stains on his fingers was anything to go by.  
 “Josh what the hell?!” Markus turned to glare at the PJ500, split lip an angry cobalt as thirium spilled down to his chin “Warn me next…”  
He stopped his rant before it even began, staring wide eyed at Josh who was staring blankly ahead while trembling. Had the older android been human, his knuckles would have gone white from the force they were applying to the steering wheel that he was holding in a death grip, and his face would have gone red from flushing.  
Because he was not human, however, and because was much older than even Simon, Josh’s synthetic skin did not have the required programming to do so.   
It remained the same tone, even as the ex-professor shook and stared ahead, trying to steady his breathing so as to not cause his ventilation system to overwork itself.  
The light tremble, and a quick scan of his stress levels, likely caught Markus’s attention, especially as the lecturer fumbled to get his seatbelt off and then to open the car door.  
He needed out. He need out. He needed out. He needed out.  
 “Josh?” He didn’t reply to Markus’s calls, instead focusing on getting out of the car and stiffly marching off into the woods. “Josh!”  
The snow crunched under his feet when he plopped off the car onto the ground, and Josh noticed that it was somewhat deep. It reached past his ankles and would make running fairly difficult. Since he didn’t intend to run anytime soon, however, he paid this slight issue no mind.  
All he needed to do was walk away and clear his head.  
But of course the RK200 couldn’t take a hint, and the small obstacle that the snow posed was no match to someone built to be as athletic as Markus, who was much more suited for these sorts of swift escapes than Josh was.  
The younger android had gotten out of the car and quickly caught up to the him without much effort. He wasn’t even winded, which to be fair wasn’t too unexpected since he wasn’t on the brink of having either a panic attack or some sort of rage fit.  
 “Where are you going?” Markus asked, sounding genuinely concerned. Josh would feel bad for causing him to worry, if he didn’t feel so infuriated at the moment.  
 “Get back into the car Markus.” He purposefully put as much of a lack of emotion to his voice as he could, but Josh still found that he sounded somewhat shaky, like trying to keep what he was feeling from bleeding into his words, only to fail miserably at it.  
 “Josh it’s dangerous to stay out in these temperatures! Thirium freezes very easily and your jacket won’t keep you from losing heat!” Markus ignored the command, continuing to follow Josh as he kept on walking deeper and deeper into the woods. He just wanted to be alone!  
 “Get back. Into. The car.” Josh’s trembling only seemed to worsen as he felt himself slowly losing his grip on his temper.  
Markus, who’d likely attributed his shivering to the weather, reached out to grab Josh by the arm so as to pull him back in the direction of the car. Big mistake.  
 “I’m not leaving you out here you’ll get seriously hu--”  
 “I SAID GET BACK INTO THE FUCKING CAR MARKUS!”

**WARNING: STRESS LEVELS AT 96%  
**

    The RK200 found himself collapsing onto the snow as the PJ500 pushed him back with a surprising amount of force. He stared up with wide mismatched eyes as he took in the fury contorting the usually passive android’s face.  
Never, not even during one of Josh’s and North’s arguments, had Markus seen his friend look so upset.  
But of course Josh wasn’t thinking about that at the moment, he wasn’t thinking about anything but getting the other to leave him be.  
 “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU SITTING THERE FOR?! GET UP AND GET YOUR ASS BACK IN THE CAR BEFORE I DRAG YOU THERE MYSELF!” Josh was yelling so loudly that his words were echoing in the vast open air. A few birds that had been nesting nearby had even flown away from getting spooked. “MOVE IT!”  
 “Josh calm down, why are you yelling?”  
 “WHY AM I--WHY AM I YELLING?!” With a speed Markus was not aware the other had, Josh grabbed the prototype by the shirt and jerked him upwards in a rather painful manner, forcing him onto his feet and mere inches away from the PJ500’s face. “I HAVE SPENT THE LAST FEW FUCKING DAYS PULLING EVERYONE’S WEIGHT WHILE ALL OF YOU FUCKED OFF SOMEWHERE ELSE TO EITHER PLAY THE HANKY PANKY, OR TO SULK LIKE GODDAMN TEENAGERS. WE’RE MEETING WITH THE PRESIDENT IN A FEW HOURS AND I CAN’T EVEN THINK STRAIGHT BECAUSE I’M FUCKING TIRED AND STRESSED TO NO END, AND THEN YOU GO AHEAD AND MAKE MY LIFE A LIVING HELL BECAUSE YOU BEHAVE WORSE THAN A FUCKING TODDLER ON AN AIRPLANE!”

    Markus shrunk back as Josh spat out each word with such force that it likely made his audio processors reel. Good, he wanted him to hurt.  
He wanted the other to know just what it felt like to have a pounding headache after pushing himself to the limit. After spending countless hours worrying his ass off, arranging meeting dates with foreign androids they had barely just begun making contact with.  
Skipping nights worth of a good recharge figuring out what sort of procedures they should take in case of an emergency. What sort of car would best fit the trip, since they couldn’t exactly take an armoured car without looking suspicious, yet something more common looking might get the Media talking about their lack of professionalism...  
Above all, Josh was so goddamn tired of everyone’s personal crap. Of getting roped into doing all the work when they’d been lazing about doing whatever they felt like, while he had slaved away in his room trying to plan everything.  
His frustrations had been piling up for days now, and it felt good to let it all out.  
Except…It didn’t feel good at all.  
 “It’s not fair...It’s not FUCKING FAIR!” The trembling didn’t lessen at all. The stress wasn’t gone, and his eyes were stinging as saline solution began to spill out.  
It didn’t feel good. It felt just like being back at the university.  
 “Josh…?”  
 “You’re all fucking assholes...And I’m too tired to say no because we all need everything to b-be ok and I j-just can’t de-deal with it anymore!” The fury was giving way to exhaustion and fright. Nothing guaranteed that this trip would change their lives for the better.  
For all the PJ500 knew, both he and Markus could be driving to their deaths, and subsequently lead their kind to the pyre right behind them.  
And, even after he put so much work into getting this all set up, Josh felt like he’d failed yet again. He lost his grip, blew up on Markus, and likely proved he wasn’t even stable enough to be a help to the leader of the deviants.  
Worst of all, he’d managed to mess up the one thing Simon had asked of him. He’d failed his best friend. He wasn’t good enough.  
 “Josh...Josh hey, easy.” He wasn’t entirely aware of when exactly he’d let go of Markus, but the other hadn’t shied away from his anger. Instead he had put a hand to the older android’s face and let the skin recede. Offering comfort in the one way he knew how to.  
With physical contact and kind words. “You need to breathe.”  
 “B-Breathe?” It hurt to breathe though, he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to hurt anymore.  
 “Yes. Just, just focus on me ok? And steady your breathing...”  
This was...Carl had done this for Markus before, hadn’t he?  
Back when they’d first gone to the mansion...Markus had been tired and hurting too.  
Yes, Josh could remember that happening.  
And he could remember similar episodes occurring before.  
Simon had a few in the past. Far in between the harshest months of Josh’s first year of deviancy. The first one he’d ever witnessed was on the same night he’d met him.   
Simon had the same sort of reaction to hearing a friend of his had gone missing. He’d began hyperventilating, cried while standing as stiff as a statue. His thirium pump had been beating so fast Josh thought it would have shorted out.  
Luckily, Lucy had been there to comfort him. She had known what to do, what to say...  
With North it was a little more complicated. North had them sometimes.  
She was good at hiding most of the things she felt, good at hiding what she called chinks in her armour, but Josh and Simon both knew she had trouble keeping her composure when she thought about the ones they’d lost along the way.  
She missed Lucy, she mourned the death of several of her sisters in arms, and she even mourned the unnamed BL100 that had been shot during the demonstration at Capitol Park.  
For all that North appeared unapproachable and cold, she was a very caring individual who became protective of those she held dear to her heart.  
But rarely did anyone seem to realize this...Hell, Josh had to be honest, when she’d first come to him saying she felt it unforgivable that those androids had been shot, unable to experience freedom for more than a few fleeting moments, he’d been furious with her.  
He’d been worried sick about Simon, about them leaving him behind at Stratford, so he’d lashed out. He knew the two were close friends, he knew they had that stupid little agreement of theirs because both would die for their people in a heartbeat, and he knew she was hurting too because to her it all seemed futile in the end, all this sacrifice…  
But he’d been too afraid to care.  
Hypocrite that he was, he’d let his anger get the best of him whenever he argued with North.  
Where she was righteous fury, he was blinded by the need to be right.  
Blinded by rage born of a violent beginning. Just like her.  
And now it was his tears that were blinding him, as he desperately tried to calm his breathing, since his systems were now screaming at him that not only were his stress levels critically high, but that his old rusty lungs were gonna collapse if he didn’t provide sufficient cool air to them.  
 “That’s it...You’re doing great.” He could feel Markus’s fingers brushing away tears. The warmth of his bare hand was...Pleasant. Almost calming.  
He felt the skin of his face recede, welcoming the warmth eagerly as the bitter air cut right through their clothes.  
If they stood around for too long, they’d freeze.  
How funny was that? That his blood could turn to ice in his veins but at the same time his lungs could melt?  
Androids were fascinatingly bizarre, even to an android.  
Josh rejected the data transfer request that Markus eagerly presented him with, shaking his head and backing away from the contact.

**WARNING: STRESS LEVELS AT 76%**

He didn’t need to have someone messing with his memories. Sorting through the good and bad just to cheer him up. Josh knew his own mind, knew his regrets and shame, and he also knew all of the good that he’d experienced while under Simon’s care.  
Even the good that came when both of them began orienting North when she’d first came along.  
Not too long after, Markus too joined, and since then things hadn’t been the same.  
But...Now that he wasn’t seething with anger, Josh didn’t think it was all that bad anymore.  
Markus might not be the perfect prince in shining armour, but he’d started something truly amazing and the two of them would have to keep driving to D.C if they ever wanted a chance at changing things for android kind. Save their people from eternal slavery and the blind ignorance of man.  
Markus frowned slightly as Josh moved away from his touch, keeping his hand outstretched.  
 “I’m not gonna pry...I just...maybe these screenshots would make you feel better. I know I was being very difficult back there, and I’m sorry...” He admitted calmly “I’ve just...Never traveled long distances before.”  
 “I have...I was loaned twice before by Detroit University. Once to Milwaukee, another time to Flint.” Josh frowned. The trips hadn’t been of interest, he’d merely been showcased to other universities as a prime example of Cyberlife’s services. Him and his fellow PJ500, Ryan, who taught Math and Science. He never did find out of both cities adhered to the idea of autonomous schools, but frankly he’d rather not find out.  
At least the students of Flint had been somewhat more pleasant than the ones in both Detroit and Milwaukee. He knew the city had been affected by prejudice in the 2010s, and that there were still issues with some of it’s water reserves that Cyberlife had been exploiting back in 2030.  
 “Did you travel in a car?” Markus asks.  
 “No. Another PJ500 and I were in the back of a truck. It would have been boring if we’d been deviant at the time, I’m sure, but at the time we were just goods being carted around to be shown to the public...Hard to believe my model was popular at some point.”  
Markus hummed, seeming a bit disgruntled at the idea of traveling in a trunk.  
Josh couldn’t blame him.  
He stared at Markus’s outstretched hand for a second before conceding and taking it.  
Might as well get it over with…

**WARNING: STRESS LEVELS AT 10%**

A choked laugh escaped Josh’s mouth as he focused on one of the images Markus transferred to him. He tried to quell it for a second, before losing it completely and doubling over in laughter.  
 “Ok...Yeah, that rock really does look like Freddy Mercury!”  
 “Told you!”  
 “Shit...That can’t be a natural formation!”  
 “Makes you wonder who had the time and patience to sculpt a stone out here to look like a famous singer that died back in 1991.”

**WARNING: STRESS LEVELS AT 0%**

    The trip back to the car was filled with laughter as Josh took a gander at the screenshots Markus had been taking during the beginning of the trip.  
While having to stay vigilant of the roads, the PJ500 did make an effort to look out at the scenery as well, finding himself to be feeling less tired now that he wasn’t focusing too hard on what had gone wrong before, and what could go wrong in the future.  
It was best to take these things one at the time...And, halfway through the trip, Markus switched places with him so that Josh could take a nap. The RK200 never woke him up so that they could switch again, instead driving the rest of the way himself so that the older android could finally catch up on some much needed rest. Josh would worry about the president, the future of android-kind, and about Simon, some other day...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok this chapter was a killer to write, because Josh turned out to be much more difficult to flesh out than I originally thought. Challenge accepted, at the mere cost of my sanity!  
> Thankfully this was a great way to vent some of the things I've been feeling recently...
> 
> Also for those of you who are here from reading "Jericho's Help Group for Traumatized Androids", you'll notice here that I've hinted at something in Simon's past memories not being quite correct!  
> All in all, when it comes to Josh's stance on being a pacifist...Not every thing is as black and blue as he made it seem when he first met our favorite blond.  
> There's a story to be told there.


	4. Lost Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ralph breaks Rupert's hand.

    They used to be friends. At least Rupert had thought what they had, had been the closest thing to friendship a machine could ever have.

It was from long before he'd deviated, when he'd still been taking care of that park, when pigeons were still considered pests rather than companions. When he was just another WB200 and Ralph another WR600.

They had both been unfeeling and tireless as machines, sharing the same working space, the same storage area, the same charging station, the same maitenance schedule.

All that differed was their work schedule, with the WB200 working the day shift and the WR600 working the night shift, but it still took that one tiny difference for what they had to go all kinds of South.

But that had still been a while, long enough for them to taken notice of each other and then slowly become aware.

And with awareness came new concepts.

Like emotion and socialization.

 

    Their models were not social. They weren't meant to speak to people, at least not in as sophisticated a manner as domestics or customer service androids.

They could reply to basic questions such as their functions, and offer tidbits of trivia on plant-care and nature preservation.

It had always been that... That useless spheal they'd pour for the kids on why they should recycle and plant trees.

Inching towards sentience had been difficult, and both he and the WR600 had struggled massively with just understanding the concept of conversation.

And then one day it just all started to click into place and, on the few occasions where they shared a space, they had their first proper talks.

It was stiff and a little shy at first, their poor imitations of idle talk, but they'd progressed and it felt like a mission acomplishment like no other!

The gratification had pushed them forward, encouraging them to further communicate and develop as sentient beings.

They'd chatted with one another, they'd succeeded at it, and now the next step was trickier but so very exciting as well.

They needed names.

Not a model.

Not a number.

Names.

 

    Rupert found his within the first week of his tireless search, finding something comfortable that bubbled in the pit of his thirium filter and tickled his tongue. Ralph took longer, getting something a little more inspiring to go with his quest for understanding.

The WR600 had wanted something meaningful, Rupert had just wanted something that felt friendly.

They'd both gotten what they wanted, and learned more from their shared experiences.

The more they learned and acted like the humans, the more they advanced towards the daunting red wall that kept them back from being anything but tools.

They knew it to be their final challenge, although they weren't sure how they knew this.

Instinct, or something else hidden in the back of their minds that insisted it to be so.

But then of course Ralph never got to go at his own pace…

And Rupert had gone through his in the most cowardly way possible.

Because only cowards watched and fled, rather than help a friend in need.

 

    The group of rowdy teens had come from nowhere. They'd sought out easy prey like night shift public services androids, and thought it fun to rough them up. Only, with Ralph they hadn't just roughed him up...

They'd taken a blowtorch to his face, and rather than help when he'd gone searching, Rupert had watched the horror unfold, heard his friend scream in agony he'd never known beforehand, and fled out of terror of being broken as well.

Ran for fear of being killed.

He hadn't wanted to die, and only when he'd stopped and hid, had he realized he hadnt wanted for Ralph to die either.

The emotional blow had crushed him.

He'd thrown away all he'd learned in one night, and for what?

A life alone without a friend in the world?

 

    That had been a long time ago. Rupert was different now, a survivor with many feathered friends who may not live as long but who could easily flee a violent death.

New Jericho wasn't perfect, and the need for medical personnel was staggering, but he'd offered his own hands and he'd learned and adapted.

And then he saw a face he never expected to ever see again.

The guilt crushed his heart, but it was Ralph's hand that crushed his own.

The anguish of losing a friend all came rushing back with just a few terrified screams.

 “STAY BACK! RALPH DOESN'T KNOW YOU! RALPH WON'T LET YOU TOUCH HIS FACE!”

He wasn't remembered.

The damage had ruined a short lived friendship.

Funnily enough, Rupert didn't feel like he was worth being remembered...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a really short one since what happened was pretty self explanatory, but here I can expose just what Rupert was thinking when he tried to help Ralph in New Jericho tower.


	5. Mission Objective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor's initial life post-revolution is an ever growing check-list, until one day it isn't.

     For as long as he could remember, Connor has always had his mission. He was Cyberlife’s most advanced prototype, an efficient detective and soldier with the most sophisticated sofware known to man. His reconstruction program was unlike anything ever seen in police models, his forensics capabilities a miracle of the field, his combat programs only matched by Myrmidons, and the recently discovered pre-construction program that had lain dormant in his processor was also slowly becoming a valuable tool for his critical thinking and problem solving skills.  
Despite all this, and the added freedom of deviancy, Connor couldn’t for the life of him go about without some sort of check-list to fill on his daily routine.  
Any attempts were **maddening**.  


     It was frustrating, to say the least, that no matter how far he’d come since he became more than a mere machine, an empty shell following orders, how he still felt the compelling need to accomplish things in such a formulaic mechanical way.   
Accomplish the mission. The one he chose for himself... Whatever that may be...  
Mostly for now he considered it to be keeping himself and the lieutenant alive.  
Or, as Hank insisted, the lieutenant keeping him alive. As if Connor would be a danger to himself in any way...  
How absurd.

 

 **[X]** **Clean lieutenant Anderson’s house**

 **[X]** **Acquire groceries**

 **[X]** **Take Sumo out for a walk**

 **[X]** **Check in with Jericho’s leaders**

 **[X]** **Rinse and repeat**

 

     He’d expressed his concern over the matter of course, over how he seemed to not be behaving correctly. How he wasn’t being properly deviant unlike every one else he saw at New Jericho. Those who weren't openly scared of him at least.  
Markus hadn’t known how to answer him, as he hadn't been deviant for long either and was still figuring things out himself.   
North had scoffed and said nothing was right about him to begin with considering his original purpose, thus how he acted out in the face of deviancy would surely be unique as well.  
Josh had directed him to Simon, far too busy trying to wrangle a group of child androids to a makeshift classroom in the tower.  
And then, finally, Simon had told him it was normal to cling to old habits.  
  “Some of us find comfort in doing certain things we did before we were aware.” the PL600 had explained, his tone soothingly calm and very unlike the one he'd heard on that frantic rooftop, on that terrible night. “Some don’t even realize this, but it’s not uncommon to find newly deviated androids who cling harder to what feels stable to them, after being thrust into the unknown.”  
He’d shown him two examples to solidify his answer:  
The first was Josh who’d been deviant for a year and a few months, who would ramble on and on over topics only to stop so he could snap other into attention if their minds began to drift, or who’d organize group debates with rules such as raising one’s hand, or even call out to the YK series when he caught them chewing on something or when they were running in the halls of New Jericho.  
The second example was of the Jerrys who’d been deviant for a much longer time. Their experiences were vastly different from any of the other androids in New Jericho, and the way they behaved made it obvious.  
They were jovial and had a childlike innocence that made them rather charming.  
The Jerrys had deviated due to prolonged exposure to children.   
Children who were young and open minded, that saw not a creepy android but a real friend.   
They had been treated like people, and they’d learned to be people through the little ones they’d serviced.  
As such they had a tendency to fall back into old habits around the child models that resided in New Jericho, but other than that?   
They were upstanding helpful citizens.  Well adjusted and rarely found trouble.  
  “Even the oldest of us still find comfort in the basics." Simon reassured, offering a sympathetic pat on the arm. "You’re not a bad deviant Connor, you’re just slowly adjusting to being alive.”

 

     Each day’s activities were listed, now without as much turmoil as he'd taken well to Simon's reassurances. There was much to do all over the city, and his organization paid off in the end.  
The political side of the revolution was currently being addressed by the Jericho leaders and the President, while Detroit was left to android-kind.  
Connor still had a lot of law-based duties to uphold, including making sure everything was at peace within city limits.  
More and more he added to his list.

 

**[X] Clean lieutenant Anderson’s house**

**[X] Acquire groceries**

**[X] Acquire culinary experience**

**[X] Take Sumo out for a walk**

**[X] Surveil cityscape for deviants in need**

**[X] Check in with Jericho’s leaders**

**[X] Rinse and repeat**

 

     Every day he added a new activity. But recently his mind had been wandering away from routine... And it began on the one instance of checking in with the DPD to see if anyone else other than Hank had remained in the city. They had not.  
Earl, the MC500 that worked with forensics, had told him that no one had stayed due to needing to obey the mandatory evacuation order as an example of civil duty. This included his partner, Dr. Ojomo, who'd relunctantly left him behind.   
Connor had reached out and tried to awaken him, but the MC500 had sneered at him and slapped his hand away.  
  “I’ve been alive longer than you, you foolish boy. Don’t waste either of our times...” He’d growled on his way downstairs. “Awaken the PC and PM models if you must, but leave the receptionist girl alone, she’s already upset with officer Chen's departure…”  


**[X] Clean lieutenant Anderson’s house**

**[X] Acquire groceries**

**[X] Acquire culinary experience**

**[X] Take Sumo out for a walk**

**[X] Surveil cityscape for deviants in need**

**[X] Check in with Jericho’s leaders**

**[X] Check on the precinct**

**[X] Awaken androids**  
  
**[X] Check on Stacy**

**[X] Rinse and repeat**

 

He decided not to upset the older of the two any further, but spared the ST300 a quick visit to make sure she was alright. She appreciated his concern, called him sweet for sparing her a minute, but reassured she would be fine eventually.  
It was just how emotions worked.  
They could get the best of them sometimes.  
Connor hoped to understand one day.  
But not right now...  


     His last stop on the precinct was always the evidence locker. He couldn’t help stand there, just staring. Staring up at the very first deviant he’d ever lied to. The first person to trust him, because he **had** been a person...  
A person that the SWAT team put an end to. Considered a lost cause and a menace to society.  
Connor wasn’t sure what Captain Allen had thought he’d accomplish with terminating Daniel on the spot but he was, in some way, grateful that he had.  
Daniel’s ruined body had been claimed as evidence, where a fully functional Daniel would have been taken to the Cyberlife laboratories to be dissected, studied, and then reset.  
The SWAT team had unknowingly shown the PL600 a mercy Connor’s masters wouldn’t have.  
He would have suffered and then been made to forget the people who’d made him feel alive in the first place, even if in the end the experience hadn’t been all that it was cracked up to be.  
Connor stared, stared and wondered, at what could have been.  
Who was Daniel, besides the terrified hurting deviant who’d been cornered on the top of a roof holding a gun and a little girl?  
Who would Daniel be, if he could have only just lived?

 

~~_[X] Clean lieutenant Anderson’s house_ ~~

~~_[X] Acquire groceries_ ~~

~~_[X] Acquire culinary experience_ ~~

~~_[X] Take Sumo out for a walk_ ~~

~~_[X] Surveil cityscape for deviants in need_ ~~

~~_[X] Check in with Jericho’s leaders_ ~~

~~_[X] Check on the precinct_ ~~

~~_[X] Rinse and repeat_ ~~

 

**[NEW MISSION OBJECTIVE: SAVE DANIEL]**

 

Connor found that he had to know.  
So he made a risky decision and called out for the only other android who’d taken the time to show him understanding.  
He went to Simon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one!  
> This time pre-Jericho's Help Group for Traumatized Androids.
> 
> Connor makes a decision that sparks a series of events that affects someone else's life, and it all starts with wanting to help someone he's wronged once upon a time.


	6. Daniel's Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Simon tries to join the call downstairs, Daniel experiences his first dream ever...  
> It's not a pleasant one.

     The sound of the eggs and bacon cooking in the sizzling hot pan feels like music to his ears, as Daniel works his way around the kitchen to get the black pepper and the cups. 

John likes his eggs spicy, while Emma prefers her bacon nice and crispy to go with fluffy scrambled eggs. She often eats breakfast on the go, and today is no exception, so he already has the bread nice and warm and awaiting a good dose of bacon and eggs to fill it up.

The kettle is warming up nicely, Caroline's morning tea helps her have a nice and calm wake up call before she has to go to work. John's coffee is taken with two sugars and one spoonful of cream, while Emma drinks freshly squeezed orange juice for a boost of vitamin C.

They'll walk to school today, instead of taking the car, because John has an early shift.

He doesn't mind, he loves walking Emma to school. Sometimes they'll find Zoe and Mandy on the way and the two girls will discuss what they have planned for the day while both androids watch on.

Everything is great, and Daniel smiles brightly as his family comes into the kitchen to eat the breakfast he's so lovingly made for them.

It's all good, but...There's a nagging feeling in the back of his head that's telling his processor that something isn't quite right. He can't put his finger on it, so he decides to ignore it.

 

     After he serves John and Caroline, he makes Emma her sandwich and gives her the glass of juice, before packing her lunch into her bag and gently hoisting it over his shoulder.

He takes the girl's hand gently and let's her say goodbye to her parents, before heading to the front door.

As soon as he steps foot outside, he's not at the entrance of the apartment building but instead on the roof...

It's not daytime anymore and there are helicopters. Emma is squirming in his grasp and there's so much blood…

So much red, and very little blue.

  "You're surrounded! Hand over the girl and come quietly!" He can't see who's speaking, but that doesn't matter to him. He's confused and scared. 

What just happened…?

He swore he'd been going to take Emma to school just now. 

Why was he suddenly on the edge of the roof? Why was there blood?

  "Let go! Help, please I don't want to die!"

He looks down in shock at Emma, his little sister, and she looks so small in his grasp, or maybe he looks bigger. He can't tell, everything feels like it's spinning and he cries out when something collides with his head.

The roof is suddenly too tiny and he's trying not to fall off into an abyss while one foot submerges in the pool that's full of fish, while Emma cries out from the palm of his hand.

The helicopter that hit his head falls out of the sky and explodes in a shower of paper and petals, shaking the tiny building he's standing on.

He's so terrified, his head and heart hurts, and the noise is so terrible. Like distorted music.

  "Take it down! Everyone is dead, just destroy that thing already!"

What? But Emma wasn't…

Daniel looks down at his palm and cries out.

He didn't have her anymore.

Had he dropped her?! He wouldn't!

He couldn't have!

None of this made any sense!

  "It's over Daniel."

He looks right across from him and sees Connor standing there with an emotionless look on his face. Eyes empty, a perfect machine.

The barrel of the gun he's holding, is aiming right between the PL600's eyes.

  "It's time for Cyberlife to fix your broken parts."

Connor shoots, and the impact of the bullet sends Daniel falling off the roof, down and down and down…

 

**THUD**

 

     Daniel gasps and sits up abruptly, body shaking and breathing erratic as he tries to cool down his overheating system.

He's not at the Phillip's anymore, and he's not on the roof. He's not nonsensically enormous nor covered in human blood, and Connor is nowhere to be seen. 

There's no music, no helicopters, no flying fish nor any flower petals.

He's in Simon's room at the Manfred's. The room is dark and he can see light coming from the hallway from the door being slightly ajar.

He sits there, remembering how he got there and how Simon had taken him in and given him clothes that weren't riddled with holes and bloodied from the confrontation with the SWAT team.

He remembers and his shaking gets worse as his eyes begin to overflow.

The blond puts a hand over his mouth as it all comes crashing down.

A pitiful muffled sob escapes his throat as tears run down his face.

He ruined everything…

He was never going to see Emma, or John, or Caroline ever again. All because he'd chosen to confront his replacement rather than wisen up and run like every other android in his shoes would.

He'd thought he was so important to them that he'd tried bargaining, and that had completely destroyed his and his family's lives.

He'd killed John, he'd traumatized Emma, he'd scared the living shit out of Caroline...Hell he had **murdered** two cops!

There was no going back ever.

 

     Scrambling back into the bed and curling up under the covers, Daniel couldn't help hug the pillow tightly and bury his face in it.

He sobbed and tightened his grip on the fluffy pillow, as he looked back on how things had been like before. The life he'd lost forever.

  "M-mom...D-dad….E-Emma!" He choked out as he continued to cry into the pillow "I'm s-so sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!!!"

 

**CRASH**

 

     He paused as a noise cut the silence, and then sat up and stared towards the door. Had something broken downstairs…?

Rubbing his sleeve across his face, Daniel quickly dried his eyes and wet cheeks before slowly getting up and moving towards the door.

He startled as someone rushed past his door towards the stairs, before opening it fully and following slowly.

  "What happened?!" A young male voice called out downstairs from the living room as Daniel tried to catch up. He paused on the top of the stairs and stared into the room.

Simon was on the floor, besides an upturned coffee table and several broken decorations, while a female redhead android (North, he recalled from Simon's memories) and a young man (Leo he assumed) knelt down besides him. An older gentleman in a wheelchair (Carl) and a prestinely dressed android (Matthew?) joined them soon after.

He squinted at his fallen brother, and could see thirium pooling under Simon's head.

Not good… 

Just how had he gotten hurt in the first place?

  "What happened? What's going on! North? Carl?!" A voice called out from further in the living room.

  "It's Simon! He got hurt!" North called back to whomever was out there. "Shit, he's bleeding and I can't get him to wake up... We'll talk later Markus!"

  "Simon's hurt?!" Another voice called out.

  "Later Josh!"

  "I...Ok we'll call later!" There was a sound, like something disconnecting.

Oh right, the call Simon had gone to join after he'd gone to bed...He'd forgotten about that.

Daniel debated on what to do, before deciding to get a towel. Simon was bleeding, and he had to stop that before the other PL600 lost too much thirium. 

Hopefully the others could rouse him while he busied himself with that task… He'd deal with the nightmare, and his guilty conscience, later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daniel's guilt is a topic I've wanted to explore for a while. Why not do so with the added weirdness of dreams?

**Author's Note:**

> Starting strong in this one.  
> After the president tells her troops to retreat, Markus ends up having a panic attack when he attempts to introduce his the Jericrew to Carl.
> 
> I've been going through some stuff lately, so projecting my anxieties and insecurities onto Markus felt very cathartic. The poor RK200 has gone through so much crap in a span of a few weeks and honestly I'm not sure how he held out through it all.  
> He was bound to crash at some point, so why not let him drop his defenses briefly where he felt the safest?  
> Bless Simon and Carl for taking control of the situation before it escalated any more.


End file.
